


even when everything else fades (i’ll still love you)

by madcities



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Falling In Love, High School, M/M, Post-High School, Semi loves Shirabu so much, Shirabu loves him too but it takes him a while to realize, Slow Burn, Teen Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, University, hope this is it, idk what slow burn is really, that's literally the whole fic, they're whipped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-19 15:50:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17004555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madcities/pseuds/madcities
Summary: Meteors could spontaneously begin pouring from the twilight sky and Semi wouldn’t look half as amazed as  when he hears Shirabu’s laugh.





	even when everything else fades (i’ll still love you)

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO i’m back and this is a v e r y selfindulgent fic uh i was reading ‘the princess saves herself in this one’ by amanda lovelace and the loveydovey bit reminded me a lot of semishira so it’s veeeery based on some of those poems including the summary!! since there’s some english literature in here i just want to clear up that because i’m not rly english and english is NOT my native language i don’t really know much about literature so i just used stuff and quotes from the internet... forgive me... so yeah if i fucked anything up when it comes to grammar, vocab... the english language... i’m so so sorry T_T

For as long as he could remember, Shirabu’s heart had always been wrapped in intimidating layers of briars and barbed wire to make sure no one would ever dare to get close and slip in, but a certain someone named Semi Eita was unafraid and had been more than willing to bloody his hands for him. 

(He never really had to go to such lengths, though.) 

Because it was so easy, bundling in a particular too large leather jacket that Shirabu picked because it reeks of _him_ , sneaking kisses on the cheek, holding his wrist in a tight grip to feel his pulse, to feel him living _right under Shirabu’s fingertips._

And Shirabu swears he can feel flowers grow wherever Semi’s touch grazes him, when they have those late movie nights and Semi unconsciously runs his hands over every bit of exposed skin on Shirabu’s body. Pink buds, purple blooms, ivory blossoms; all over his thighs and belly and padding his neck and lips, filling up his lungs as he breathes in vanilla and spice until he can barely breathe, like a garden in midsummer and it’s beautiful. 

Those kind of nights are Shirabu’s favorite; late hours, staying up to watch how Semi’s eyes look in the low gentle moonlight and the way they stare into Shirabu’s with shooting stars as if he’s his everything (because he is). 

It makes Shirabu’s heart press against his ribs, wanting to be closer, makes his fingers twitch in Semi’s delicate hold, because Semi is the absolute sweetest and most ethereal boy in the universe; he’s patient and kind and he treats Shirabu as if he’s the best damn thing that ever happened and always says what’s on his wandering mind. And usually in those moments, with their bodies tangled over the sheets, _Shirabu is the only thing on Semi’s mind._

It’s then that Shirabu wonders how they’re able to work, how someone like Semi stay around and come home to _someone like him_ , and he can’t help but feel like his soul had known Semi’s ages before they ever even had the chance to meet. 

Maybe it’s because of how Semi manages to make Shirabu feel like the most loved boy in the planet with a single touch or compliment, the way Semi attempts to understand Shirabu’s love for literature and indulges himself in it, the way he knows Shirabu like a pastor knows his word, or how he cares for Shirabu’s wellbeing above anything else.

 _Or_ it could be the way Shirabu had always thought he wasn’t really ever going to be able to entrust his heart to someone else, and how Semi proved that he was horribly wrong all this time. 

Or maybe it was all of the above.

 

 **i. Sixteen: He always calls Shirabu pretty.**  
(Because to Semi, Shirabu is never not breathtaking.)

The first time Semi calls Shirabu pretty, it’s in the locker room after practice and Shirabu almost slips. 

It’s Shirabu’s first year at Shiratorizawa Academy, a particular after school practice on a Friday in spring, and it’s him and Ushijima against Semi and Kawanishi. Semi, being the skilled regular setter he is, moves fluidly and stagnant; unlike Shirabu who’s more calculated and quick. 

It’s in brief moments of insecurity, catching the way Semi blends and plays so easily with so much experience, that Shirabu can’t help but feel a bit behind. He doesn’t get fully along with Semi just yet, the two setters always butting heads which comes naturally with both of them being somewhat easily provoked and hotheaded, but there never seems to be a right time to address the uncomfortable tension between them at all.

Shirabu stands on the front line, waiting for the ball to hurl back over the net when it does, quicker than his mind can process, and Ushijima receives it and bursts towards the net in advance. Shirabu’s eyes widen, heart shooting into his throat as his hands feel towards the ball in the air. 

The toss ends up a tad too high and Ushijima just barely manages to spike it with his fingers, being so conveniently tall and all, Coach Washijou calling Shirabu over shortly after and he only really gives him an irritated look. Not much coming from the demon coach but it’s more than enough for Shirabu to slap himself on the cheeks and sternly tell himself that from now on he won’t let himself get carried away with his thoughts mid-game ever again. 

So that evening, Shirabu turns down Tendou’s invitation for dinner, half-assing some sort of smile, and decides to shower last. Except he doesn’t take the typical five minute after practice shower, seeing as his head seems particularily full today and the water provides this warm comfort that somehow soothes the weight of his thoughts.

He feels relaxed and content, though when he steps back out, all his muscles tense once again as he gets ready to jump out of his skin at the sight of his _favorite_ senpai leaning against the lockers. 

“You sure took your sweet time, huh, Shirabu.” Semi snickers before Shirabu can even open his mouth to snap something.

Semi easily approaches him, the guy not even _close_ to how reserved Shirabu can get, sure; it’s a piece of cake. In one smooth movement, he steps over the bench between them, only to see how Shirabu instinctively steps back—and damn it all, really, because his feet might be relatively small and quick and they have given him the great ability to move with fast and sharp steps across the court, but they definitely haven’t given him the ability to walk over wet surfaces.

It’s so embarrassing really, he was only taking a mere step back, his surroundings lacking something to grip when his foot slipped out of place. He attempts to suck in a breath, feeling all the air rush from his lungs, and he closes his eyes for the initial impact, but a pair of strong hands are quick to grab his arms, brown eyes wide.

(And so blue tulips start to grow on Shirabu’s arms.)

“Holy shit, that was close.” Semi sighs when they’re both stable, tightening his grip on Shirabu, and the latter holds onto Semi’s maroon jacket for dear life.

“Be more careful.” Semi scolds, Shirabu too flustered, and Semi laughs as he pulls on his arms (more blue tulips follow). “Speaking of careful, I came here to tell you to pay attention to how much force you put in your tosses, yeah?”

Shirabu has to keep himself from smacking his lips. 

“Yeah. I know.” Shirabu simply replies.

“Right. Of course you do, you pretty brat.” Semi snaps, but his tone sounds a little too amused to be annoyed.

“Now, get dressed. Kawanishi and Reon are waiting.” And when Shirabu notices the way Semi’s smile is leagues more kind than he has ever seen on him before and his eyes widen a bit, Semi flashes his teeth a tad more as he pulls his kouhai towards his locker. 

Semi exits the room soon after and only then Shirabu feels like he can breathe normally again.

Two and a half minutes later, and Shirabu is only halfway into dressing himself when he feels an unknown feeling bubble up from his stomach all the way up to his chest, and it settles heavily between his ribs even after he joins his three teammates outside, now nearly impossible to ignore. It’s not cold at all, but he still shudders, and no matter how much he attempts to will the feeling away, no amount of focus manages to clear away the uncomfortable pressure in his chest.

Before Kawanishi and Shirabu part ways with the two second years, Semi smiles a bit at them, small but wide enough that pearly whites light up the whole God damned hallway. Shirabu gulps but refuses to be weak and look away until Semi does and he walks off with Oohira. 

_‘I hate this.’_ Shirabu decides when he’s finally in bed, Kawanishi’s ugly snoring heard from the other side of the dorm and the image of Semi’s smile fresh in his mind as he stares blankly at his dark ceiling. 

 

-

 

The next time Semi calls Shirabu pretty it’s already winter, they have a so called study date in the younger’s dorm and Semi is staring so hard at Shirabu that the latter feels like he’s going to melt into the bed. 

“What the hell.” Semi starts, “You’re so pretty it irritates me.”

Shirabu’s face goes up into a mess of crimson as he sputters words and _Christ, shut your trap, Semi-san._

 _“You’re even prettier.”_ He wants to counter in a tone even more annoyed, but then Semi smiles kind of fond and the same unnamed feeling from before multiplies by a hundred, and Shirabu’s voice gets caught in his throat.

Because of this Shirabu can’t concentrate for the rest of the evening, material unread and notes unfinished, and it doesn’t help when Semi closes in on him before he leaves, pulling him into a hug. 

He smells of vanilla and deodorant and he smells of _warmth_ , a nice and hard to explain smell, but nice nonetheless, and Shirabu can’t breathe. Semi isn’t hugging him too tight, that’s not it, but it’s that he feels his heart pound so erratically that it practically suffocates him. 

His chest is pressed to Semi’s (and red daisies begin to bloom), and he hopes Semi doesn’t feel the beating of his heart. But Shirabu finds that his heart isn’t the only one beating hard, though, because a few seconds later he feels the other heart in the room beat right back against his chest, as if to say _me too._

“Alright, you’re not half bad when you’re in a good mood, Shirabu.” Semi grins when he lets go. Shirabu almost whines like a brat because he’s cold. “Open your heart up a bit more.” _(Or I’ll do it myself.)_

Shirabu’s eyes narrow, “I’m not in a particularly good mood right now, but thanks.”

Then Semi opens the door, bag hanging loosely from his shoulders and smiling lips, “Whatever, brat. See you tomorrow!” 

And just like that, Shirabu finds himself unable to sleep that night, and when he finally manages to doze off, he dreams of brown eyes golden in sunlight and grey hair soft like wool dipped in black. Certain spoken words ring around his head. Again and again.

_Open your heart up a bit more._

Shirabu wakes up disoriented.

(It’s not that easy.) 

 

 

 

 **ii. Seventeen: He reads all of Shirabu’s favorite books and asks for more.**  
(Because Semi wants to understand what the fuck Shirabu is saying every time he acts like a literature professor when he talks about how his day went at university. And also because it seems to make Shirabu happy when he comes home to Semi curled up on their couch with a book from Shirabu’s collection in their home.) 

 

Some of Shirabu’s english literature books have started going missing lately.

It’s been an ongoing thing in his dorm, when he’s in the mood for some quiet reading before bed and a certain book is nowhere to be found, and it’s all because from the moment fucking _Tendou_ learned that Shirabu is into reading literature he has been growing even more adamant about his typical ‘upperclassman teasing’ shenanigans.

Shirabu didn’t even need to ask Kawanishi anything to know that it’s that damned guy visiting their dorm every other day when Shirabu happens to be away, all to swipe multiple three hundred page books off of his shelves. 

It’s so frequent it has almost become normal, _almost._

It’s now Shirabu’s second winter at Shiratorizawa Academy and things are as hectic as ever this time around, the boy reading his notes that he has organized for an upcoming test on Monday whilst blasting classical music into his ears, and the air in the dorm is warm. It’s pleasantly warm, though, and it’s the moment that he tiredly leans back in his chair that his mind wanders to a book he has recently purchased.

Despite the fuzziness inside his head, he remembers that he left it on his nightstand, ready to be read, and he’s quick to rise from his chair to get it only to realize after a step or four that _it’s not there._ He doesn’t even need to question himself, because he already knows.

So without hesitation, Shirabu makes his way out of the dorm, Kawanishi on his bed on the other side watching him do so with a strange look, but Shirabu has no time to explain.

Once there he doesn’t think twice about storming in, and he nearly slams the door down with how hard he pushes it open, blunt and loud, and Tendou’s eyes go big at the action. 

Tendou is sat at a low coffee table, homework spread about, and Shirabu all but flies over to where he is. 

“Care to tell me where you hid my books, Tendou-san?” Shirabu asks, as calm as possible but his voice sounds weird from either the irritation or the rushing over, or both, and it fails miserably. 

Tendou bites down on his bottom lip as he leans forward, “Ololo, Kenjirou-kun…” he purrs, and Shirabu’s face immediately twitches at the sound.

“I’m afraid you’re asking the wrong person.” Tendou says with this stupid grin playing on his lips. “That’s all Eita-kun, ya know.”

Shirabu freezes in his spot, “Semi-san?”

Tendou leans back and nods, obviously amused with the reaction, “Yup!”

 _What the fuck,_ Shirabu thinks.

He tilts his head, but aside from “Honestly, Tendou-san, I thought this was your idea.” He can’t think of anything else to say.

By now his head feels slightly calm again, maybe it’s the shock of Tendou’s innocence in this one, but his eyes are not so calm, eyeing Semi’s side of the dorm, because well, he still wants those books back. 

“It’s no fun to steal literature as a prank.” Tendou snorts and Shirabu does nothing but absolutely agree.

So Shirabu doesn’t really look back when he goes for Semi’s half of the dorm, and he tries not to feel so bad about breaching his personal space because Semi did this too at some point when he marched into Shirabu’s one way or another and took his books with him. Pretty funny to think about, it almost makes him chuckle bitterly but Shirabu’s here for _business._

They’re hard to miss, Shirabu has been in this dorm many times before, having had study dates during finals week and all, and Semi’s side is pretty clean as usually if he dismisses the books that belong to Shirabu stacked on the desk and windowsills. 

Shirabu feels his heart pull in his chest fondly as he walks over, not a single sign of that anger he felt before, and he grabs one of the books, flipping through it as if to check if it’s still intact. And it is; the book is okay and exactly the same, except when he flips it backwards again, a little slip of paper falls through the pages and lands on the floor.

With furrowed brows he bends down to pick it up.

 _‘He’s more myself than I am. Whatever souls are made of, his and mine are the same.’_ It reads. It’s a quote from the book, Shirabu realizes as he takes a quick look at the cover and he recognizes it. Wuthering Heights.

But it’s when he actually looks at the rest of his books that he takes notice of different colors of papers sticking out of them, red and purple and light blue sticky notes and even black paperclips. _This guy really is a strange one_ , Shirabu internally cackles, picking up another to read the note inside.

_‘I wish I knew how to quit you.’_

And another.

_‘Each time you happen to me all over again.’_

Three books and a poem later and then he’s had enough, Shirabu’s palms have started to sweat by now and he notices that he’s got his hands tightened painfully around the cover of the book. He curses under his breath, and closes the book with a satisfying _plop_ , feeling troubled and _nervous?_

_The fuck?_

Why is he so bothered about finding these stupid love notes written in Semi’s stupid handwriting? Just the thought of Semi thinking of someone whilst reading these books, feeling butterflies pester his stomach as he writes down those words, it makes Shirabu’s guts squeeze and stretch and he can’t help but stand there full of confusion. 

All he knows for sure is that he hates this feeling, that dumb unnamed feeling, again.

Looking at the books makes him feel freaky now, so he makes to leave and just ask Semi about it later when he feels like it, but then he sees the new book he bought the other day on Semi’s bed. As much as he doesn’t want to, he grabs it and opens it where a black paper clip is located. There’s a note clamped in between.

 

_‘When I am old and alone I’_

 

 _You what?_ Shirabu nearly growls out loud, _what?_

It looks like Semi stopped writing midway, remembered something he had to do and put the book down, maybe the person he likes so much texted him and he threw everything to the side, _even Shirabu’s fucking book_ , to text back. His fingers twinge.

Unlike the times before, Shirabu doesn’t know the quote, not having read the book yet. Even so, he leaves everything as is and leaves Tendou and Semi’s dorm empty-handed that day.

 

-

 

When he’s on his way to his own dorm one day two weeks later he finds Kawanishi in the hallway, having just left.

“Semi-san is at your desk.” He says.

Shirabu sends him a death glare, “Really? This shit again?” 

Kawanishi only shrugs cheekily in the way that always irks Shirabu to no end before he continues walking into the opposite direction. 

Shirabu takes a too deep breath before he opens the door to their dorm and finds Semi sitting at his desk, all nonchalant and placid sitting on the stool with an air to him that calls for attention. He’s laughing at some dumb video on his phone and Shirabu has no choice but to ignore the same unpleasant feeling starting to form in his chest as he clears his throat to get his senior’s attention.

Semi stops laughing when he sees Shirabu standing before him, and Shirabu gulps at the fact that his attention is now fully on him but he refuses to show weakness. 

“Semi-san, what are you doing here?” Shirabu asks slowly as he sets his bag down, ignoring the tightening feeling in his heart when Semi grins. 

“Hey, Shirabu.” Semi greets, “I was just returning your stuff and I waited for you to come back so I could say that your taste is.. not too bad.”

He smirks while saying it, almost shit-eating, but the way his voice sounds is a little too soft to be teasing. 

“Thank you… I guess.” Shirabu mumbles, and he feels himself blush, “Also thanks for bringing them back, I really thought I would _never_ see those again.”

“Okay, listen here, you little shit.” Semi’s voice is low with annoyance but somehow his lips still have it in them to curve upwards into the tiniest smile. He sighs.

“You really are a pain in the ass.”

 

-

 

When Shirabu checks the books Semi returned that day, he finds that all the sticky notes and paperclips have been removed, and the same suffocating feeling presents itself and tightens its hold on Shirabu’s ribs, leaving him unable to have any clear thoughts whatsoever.

He also looks for the newest book he once had been so eager to read, but doesn’t find it among the pile, feeling annoyed but not because it’s not here—actually, he doesn’t even want to read it anymore, because something about remembering it makes something deep inside him churn in a way he definitely does _not_ like.

 _‘This feeling needs to go, and it needs to go fucking fast.’_ Shirabu tells himself. The words taste bitter.

 

-

 

It’s one week before graduation when the third years start preparing for the ceremony.

Those same third years surprise the volleyball team in the gymnasium during their last official practice by showing up in their sports clothes, ready to practice together for one last time. Everyone watches as Tendou places an empty water bottle on the sideline, Semi serving and the ball knocking the bottle over, and Semi smiles so wide and full of pride that his eyes close. 

The first years cheer and compliment him, while Shirabu promptly looks away, unable to still his restless heart.

Shirabu could have easily done that too, anyone really, Shiratorizawa being packed with nothing but skilled individuals, but he still can’t help a soft curve of the lips, because _man, Semi really is something else._

The practice session comes to an end way too fast and Shirabu admits to himself that somewhere it aches to know that in a bit the third years will walk out of this gymnasium and never walk back into it as players of the team ever again. 

The idea of them not being there next year worries Shirabu more than he likes, and he finds himself wondering how he’s going to keep Shiratorizawa’s reputation as a powerhouse up as the next captain in line, will he be able to handle such a thing? Ushijima is big and strong and more calm and collected, of course he has done a great job at leading this team.

But it’s fine, Shirabu guesses, because he’s the one that is chosen for a reason, after all, and he will definitely take on every challenge that comes with captaincy without hesitation, one at a time. He promises himself that he will push himself to the limit, that he won’t lose again, not to Karasuno as a team and not to Ushijima as a captain, instead fighting tooth and nail until he’ll be standing at the top along with the team that is entrusted to him.

He stands in the locker room, basking in silence and his own thoughts. He’s trying to lift his own spirits before he walks out and meets his teammates.

“Yo, Kenjirou.” A familiar voice resonates through the otherwise empty room and Shirabu practically hears the owner of the voice grin before he even turns around. _Fuck._ And it’s not until Shirabu whirls around and repeats the greeting in his head, that the use of his first name nearly causes him to choke on his own saliva. 

_Kenjirou._

It sounds unexpectedly pleasant coming from Semi, it’s worrying and Shirabu wants to dislike it and hate it, ban it from his memory because remembering it in the future will probably make him want to jump out of a window and crack his head open, but the problem is that none of this has even a single ounce of truth in it.

To be completely honest, he thinks he might even like it.

And this is a first, unrehearsed as it tumbles from the third year’s lips, it echoes around Shirabu’s mind in an annoying loop, his face too hot and he almost becomes dizzy but then Semi’s hand ends up on Shirabu’s head and his fingers press hard into his scalp, snapping him out of it. In that moment, a single mallow sprouts from the crown of his head.

“Hey, you brat, are you even listening to me?” Semi sighs.

Shirabu whips his head up, “Sorry, what?”

“Nevermind. Here.” Semi extends his arm, a familiar book hanging from his hand.

Full of confusion, Shirabu eyes it, it’s the one that makes him pissed thinking of it, so he doesn’t really want it anymore but he takes it from Semi’s hand nonetheless. 

“You could keep it, you know.” Shirabu mumbles, attempting to push down the jittery feeling in his guts. “I forgot about this book long ago.”

With an annoyed roll of his eyes, Semi turns his back to him, “God, Kenjirou, just try to read it before I leave for uni and tell me what you think. It’s good.”

_Kenjirou. Kenjirou. Kenjirou. Kenjirou._

Semi spins his head around to look at Shirabu once more before he walks out, and Shirabu swallows hard but he doesn’t avert his gaze, too stubborn to back down from this brief staring match.

_Before I leave for uni._

The words stab Shirabu in the chest, but he still musters some sort of smile. “If you say so, Semi-san.”

 

-

 

In the following days, Semi’s words parrot around Shirabu’s mind way too much it’s getting disturbing.

It’s in the late hours, Shirabu being unable to fall asleep, that his mind inevitably wanders to Semi and the life he’s about to live outside of Shiratorizawa. Having spent two solid years at each other’s throat, bantering and teasing, it seems surreal to not have the guy around and Shirabu swears it almost hurts, but he’s quick to shut it down.

When did this feeling ever start being a thing anyway? The feeling that always seems to resurface when it comes to Semi, that planted itself deep into Shirabu’s chest and grew into something brutal and irritating that turns any coherent thought into complete _bullshit._

Shirabu only laughs at himself, voice hoarse because it’s three in the morning and also because the third years graduate tomorrow and he’s quite nervous. He feels nervous and like he’s in a race against time, his heart is clenching in this painful manner that keeps him awake and makes him want to get up and do _everything_ before the clock strikes 10, but he has no clue what everything is.

Because of this thought, Shirabu suddenly remembers Semi’s words before he spoke the ones that currently haunt Shirabu’s mind. Shirabu kind of promised to read that book, but he hasn’t even touched it yet. 

He all but jumps out of his bed to grab it from his desk, where it sat collecting dust for a whole week. Will he be able to read it all in one night, though? 

This is his last chance to be something close to a good kouhai to a senpai, and as much as he hates being like this he guesses it’s the least he can do. Semi can consider it a goodbye gift. 

He opens it and expects to be met with some random page, only to see how it opens where a paperclip is stuck and it firmly holds a purple sticky note in its place. 

Shirabu grits his teeth at the sight, especially when he sees that the note is now written somewhat full unlike the time before when it was just an unfinished sentence. How sloppy of Semi to forget to take out his fucking love note before giving the book back. 

Shirabu slips the piece of paper and paperclip off of the page to reveal that it’s a note and something separate and smooth underneath, and he decides to return it to him tomorrow or something, because alright, he’s cruel sometimes but not so cruel as to embarrass Semi by keeping it and blackmailing him.

(Though blackmailing does sound appealing.)

Besides, Semi will probably notice that one of his messages is missing when he goes over his collection later tomorrow. 

Shirabu flicks his index finger over the slip of paper and something that feels like plastic but probably isn’t, fiddling with them and feeling the sharp corners as he contemplates. He doesn’t want to read the note, but he’s curious, and damn him— he reads it. 

_‘I took a photo of us, mid-embrace. When I am old and alone I will remember that I once held something truly beautiful.’_

_Really? How fucking cheesy, Semi-san,_ Shirabu laughs to himself, _you really are an old man._

A few breaths and a sour laugh later and Shirabu finds something absolutely terrifying.

It’s a polaroid photo hidden under the note, one that he’s never seen before but remembers being taken.

It was after last year’s graduation ceremony, in Oohira and Ushijima’s dorm with games and snacks, and Yamagata had brought the polaroid camera no one knew he owned. 

Semi had grabbed it somewhere in the middle of it all whilst everyone was too involved in a lively debate about Love Live. 

There was only one person who wasn’t as actively participating, already having made up his mind about his favorite character and opinion.

So, happily, Semi had slung his arm around Shirabu and pulled him close, Shirabu too surprised and too red in the face, and Semi had taken the photo.

Shirabu even remembers how proud Semi seemed when the picture developed and how he wove it in the air in front of his face before swiftly shoving it in his pocket. For him to still have it is something Shirabu never expected.

It’s a hideous photo, after all, Shirabu looks younger and lame, eyes big and innocent and his lips were trembling as he smiled while Semi pressed his cheek against Shirabu’s and smiled so bright that the orange stains from when the chips bag fell over on his chest didn’t even stand out anymore on his white shirt.

He remembers the white carnations and purple lilacs prospering across his shoulders and up to his cheek.

_‘I’m in love with you, Kenjirou.’_

Shirabu in his seventeen years of being and existing on this ball of dirt has only been truly anxious a handful of times: when he fell into the lake while he couldn’t swim at age six, when his mom got mad at him for breaking her favorite vase when he was twelve, every time coach Washijou called him by his first name after messing up a toss, and finally, when he watched Hinata Shouyou launch himself into the air to score what had been Karasuno’s winning point during the finals. 

Realizing that the notes Semi had been writing were attempts to confess his feelings towards Shirabu definitely shakes him to his very core, but the moment it hits him that _he feels the same way_ and that the feeling he has been struggling to handle from the beginning is a chemical reaction he’s read about a thousand times caused by Semi’s mere existence alongside his, it feels like he’s being thrown into the void.

Shirabu is in love with Semi, and it’s like the sudden realization manifests itself and punches Shirabu straight in the gut.

 

-

 

In the past two years, Shirabu has learned that he’s a lot of things. He’s dry, stubborn, hotheaded, petty and most definitely, he’s a little brat. But he’s also in love with Semi Eita and has been for two years and counting, and he only realized this yesterday, the day before his graduation. 

So when he finds Semi alone in the gymnasium after the ceremony, trying to take it all in before he has to leave it all behind, Shirabu doesn’t hesitate to face him and bare his heart out.

“I’m in love with you too, Semi-san.”

 

 **iii. Eighteen: He knows exactly how to make Shirabu’s coffee.**  
(Because Shirabu once said in his sleep that Semi isn’t his cup of tea, but his cup of coffee, and Semi plans to protect the title with his life— not that Shirabu would ever give it to anyone else at this point.)

Time passes and blends into one and Shirabu is a mess of headaches and cramping fingers because Semi _really_ wanted to sleep and cuddle all day and Shirabu can’t say no for shit, so now he is kind of behind on some work, and Shirabu being Shirabu, wants it done as soon as humanly possible. 

By now he can’t remember the last time he slept in his dorm with Kawanishi back at campus, now spending countless nights at Semi’s apartment, where the floor is warm and coffee is made at two in the morning and Shirabu always feels so at ease because with Semi he feels like he can take anything, and when Shirabu presses his chest to Semi’s at night it’s like his heart stutters _I-I-I-I love you._

“Don’t overwork yourself, Ken.” Semi chides, placing a mug of coffee on the table, his hair damp and sticking to his face, and Shirabu only smiles because the sight is so endearing. 

“I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t keep me from leaving bed all day, you know.” Shirabu replies, hands clasping around the mug, “Thanks. Did you—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know how to do this by now, yeah. Have some faith.” Semi cuts him off, “I put in the right amount of milk and sugar, so it’s light and sweet, just like you.” 

 

 **iv. Twenty: He always asks how Shirabu’s day was and genuinely means to hear the answer.**  
(Because Semi always wants to help Shirabu feel better.)

Semi calls Shirabu pretty and cute a lot, laughing and walking and holding hands and sometimes he even kisses him on the head because he knows how Shirabu secretly loves the sense of completeness he feels with every bit of affection, it’s in the way Shirabu’s eyes glow and Semi kind of adores it. 

Tonight, the roles are reversed.

They decide to meet after school for some drinks with old teammates, a reunion, or something, at the bar they occasionally spend their Friday nights, and Semi asks Shirabu if he’s okay twelve times and Shirabu assures him that he is _thirteen_ times, _yes Eita, I’m fucking fine, shut up._ His words almost slur together, but each time he says this his tone is soft and Semi wonders how a voice as dry and flat as his can sound so warm to his ears all the time. 

When Semi had arrived earlier and found Shirabu and Kawanishi in the back, Shirabu had not been so warm, hunched over and complaining about professors and how he wants to sock a particular wing spiker in his university’s volleyball team in the face. He was already tipsy, based on the number of glasses around their table. 

“Careful, he’s having a bad day.” Kawanishi had warned, having had drinks with Shirabu way too many times and considering how close they are, “And he’s already had three.” 

That was then. By now, he has inhaled three more gin and tonics and he’s both laughing and crying into his seventh, which Semi didn’t think was a possible feat, but Shirabu manages it. 

“Eita, you’re so beautiful.” He cries out, to which Semi can only hush _I know, I know, babe_ , in the hope to silence him. “Your eyes are so pretty!”

“He’s so gone,” Yamagata cackles, “Tightass.” 

It’s true. Shirabu is a baby when it comes to alcohol.

“Hey, don’t be fucking rude.” Shirabu argues when he hears and he wrinkles his forehead in that cute way that Semi likes, right arm moving to swat Yamagata on the shoulder, but he misses and nearly falls off his chair, eliciting a loud snort from Tendou, and Yamagata as well.

Semi’s protect Shirabu instinct kicks in and he loops his arm with Shirabu’s just in time, holding him in place. “Now, I think you’ve had enough for one night.”

Shirabu pounces from his chair to lean in further into Semi’s touch, forcing his face into his neck and mumbling incoherent nonsense to himself _or_ to Semi, Semi can’t tell. 

“I think I’m taking him home.” Semi sighs, and his shoulder slightly jerks when he feels lips on his skin. His face instantly gets hot and this provokes some howls out of Tendou.

“Awww, but we just started, Semisemi.” He pouts, “Stay a little longer, or are you _that_ eager?”

Semi snaps his head into his direction, “Shut the _fuck_ up.”

When Tendou gets bored of taunting Semi, he turns to Ushijima, who seems more accepting towards his endless chattering. Shirabu, who is still mumbling, loosens his grip on Semi’s arm, and Semi turns to him.

“Hey, there.” He starts, “I heard you had a bad day?”

“Mhm..” Shirabu looks up at him helplessly.

“What happened? Want to talk about it?” Semi asks, even though Kawanishi already told him what he knew from when Shirabu was rage drinking before Semi’s arrival. He pushes Shirabu’s damp bangs out of his face.

“I-I’m tired.” Shirabu whines, “And you’re so God damned cute.”

Semi chuckles, “Wanna go home? You can tell me about it in the cab.”

Shirabu can only nod, a sudden change of mood, and Semi almost thinks that he’s about to cry. So without pause, he helps Shirabu slip into his coat and puts on his own.

 

 

**v. He’ll still love Shirabu in the morning.**

Waking up next to the hungover mess that is Shirabu Kenjirou is not a pretty sight, but Semi always kisses his grumpy face and doesn’t mind the sweat-plastered bangs tangled on his forehead, because Shirabu is Shirabu and everything about him makes Semi’s bones ache. But Semi welcomes the pain, and this morning is no different.

Shirabu stirs when Semi stretches against the younger’s body, pressed so close against each other that they almost fuse together, and an ugly groan rips from Shirabu’s throat.

“Well good morning.” Semi laughs. Shirabu only nuzzles his face further into Semi’s shoulder in response.

It’s eight in the morning, and the sky is this beautiful shade of orange and pink that Shirabu knows Semi loves to no end, basking the room in warmth, and when he pulls away to look at him Shirabu notices how in the light of the sun, Semi’s brown eyes look like actual honey compressed in two little irises. 

He feels it in his chest in that very moment, remembering being carried into the apartment, Semi kicking the door shut and his laugh when Shirabu stumbled into the bedroom still rings around Shirabu’s skull, a sound so pleasant and comforting. 

Seeing the honey and tree sap in Semi’s eyes, Shirabu realizes that this is something Semi would not mind doing for the rest of his life, carrying him, pulling Shirabu’s body flush to his chest, seeing him leaned over his desk in the middle of the night and hearing the rare hiccup-y laugh that no one else gets to hear.

Because Semi fell in love with the way Shirabu’s heart stutters against his, how he always _needs_ to be right, with his snarky remarks and also with the way everything feels so right between them, almost _too_ right, like they’re a set of binary stars chosen to orbit around each other and they collided.

Shirabu raises himself to kiss Semi on the lips, to which Semi blinks and pulls Shirabu’s smaller body even closer to his own, feeling _I-I-I-I love you more than anything_ against his chest and he only laughs before he leans forward and kisses Shirabu softer than he ever has before.

 

-

 

Somehow, Shirabu feels like his soul had known Semi’s ages before they ever even had the chance to meet, and in moments like this he realizes that _he’s definitely not wrong._

**Author's Note:**

> if you made it this far THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING and again sorry for my sometimes uhhh dumb limited english vocab i kinda need to ease back into this it’s been a while since i wrote something t h i s long oh wait i never did lol ha..... my longest work was around 2000 words and we’re talking about works with no chapters here..... whoopsies..


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